Vitalus
by VanillaBeanHearts
Summary: In his escape out of Nifilheim, Prompto is chased way off of his original course when soldiers attempt to hunt him down. He's more or less off the hook when he's able to evade them, but has he stumbled into something worse as a result?
1. Prologue: Out of a Bowl, Into a Pan

**Author's Note:** Hello! VanillaBeanHearts front and center. Thank you and welcome to the story Vitalus, my first long term story I remotely am trying to stick with. First, I will **disclaim** Final Fantasy Versus 13 (or XV, whatever it is now xD) to be my own concept as it clearly is not. I will also take a moment to **disclaim **Bioshock and anything that goes along with that. Out of nowhere disclaimer?

Why yes…yes it is. XD

But I must mention it and here's why!

I decided to attempt to write a story borrowing certain concepts from Bioshock (a deteriorated society largely) with the setting of Final Fantasy. I didn't want to do a blatant crossover with the two stories as I couldn't quite think of the best way to accurately combine it without fudging the details. Therefore, I'm presenting a completely...different perspective if you will, of how it could be done. It's written in such a way that it is supposed to be able to be seen as a game plot. And since it's a very loose "crossover" focusing on Final Fantasy and using the mere "template" of Bioshock, I'll place it with Versus since this is where it is focused.

I'll add one last thing that I have a love-hate relationship with starting stories off as many others do I'm sure. Sorry if this isn't the best of chapters. I tried my best to make it flow reasonably but I'll be straightforward in mentioning its sole purpose is to set up the story rather than characterize anyone; pretty much whatever it takes to get it over that mundane introduction threshold.

Long Author's Note, but onward now to the story!

Reviews are very welcome so long as it's constructive. Please be gentle. It's the first (possibly only) one. ^_^

* * *

Vitalus

Prologue: Out of a Bowl, Into a Pan

"Don't let him get away!" barked an armored soldier in a rather vast forest to his two partners slightly ahead of him. Metallic footsteps sprinted hurriedly through moss and dirt in hopes of either detaining or executing the person the trio was pursuing. A few shots rang out around them in response to this order, but the soldiers remained undeterred since the bullets missed their targets. Instead, they became a bit more irritated that this criminal catch was so elusive despite the damage the young man before them had taken.

Tall trees stretched high towards the sky creating canopies that hid much of the waning sunlight. This usually produced a very stunning sight on a blue, sunlit day, but as darkness crept in at the end of the day or whenever the clouds filtered the sun, it easily became dark and gloomy. There were a lot of roots to be avoided as a result of the overgrown trees, not to mention the occasional shrub, branch or rock to dodge. While the various obstacles made escape a bit more likely, this attribute of the forest worked both ways, good and bad. For a normal person this might be nothing but an advantage, but anyone less than healthy would find this troublesome to work around. After all, utilizing the complex maneuverability required effort, especially if you expected to make your opponents work hard to get you.

Or better yet...make them lose interest.

This was the strategy the labeled criminal tried his hardest to exploit, even as he increasingly lost his way after being forced far off his original route toward territory foreign to him.

Dodging another branch and hopping over another jumble of roots, he landed both feet firmly on the moss-stained terrain and continued on, grasping his freshly bleeding gut wound with his right hand and his firearm with the left.

The young man peered behind him briefly to check the progress of his pursuers. Brown eyes furrowed in mutual frustration as he watched them continue to follow him even given the time lapse of a good, what, nearly 10 minutes of rather intense running?

_Sheesh...persistent for just **one** person, don'tcha think? _He glowered silently at them under his messy blonde locks.

As if they heard his thoughts, one armored solder far behind him aimed his gun and shot at him, missing so badly it was almost laughable.

Frankly, the sharpshooter, possibly in his early twenties at most, wanted to impulsively take a moment to savor their deplorable combat skills with at least a taunt. But in his current state he thought much better of it.

Even if their aim stunk so bad they could only hit him point blank once, they were still a threat as long as they were armed and on his trail.

As much odium as he had for them it just wouldn't be worth it. He dared not underestimate their full capabilities lest he incur a stupid yet critical mistake that would bring down a hammer on him and he gets slammed for a crime he never committed.

The thought of such made the man frown.

**_No. _**

He had to keep going. Make it to the border. Get out of Nifilheim and hopefully to safety. Even if the new location didn't accept him right away, he'd rather face the uncertainty thinly lined with hope than the absolute brutal nature of the Nifilheim government. Considering the chase he put the soldiers through? Failure was simply never an option and certainly never can be _now_.

Snapping his attention back ahead of him, the blonde took note that the sky was nearly void of light as dusk continued to wane. He smirked at this, feeling a bit more confident that he could get away if he could make it to night time.

Avoiding another couple of trees, he sprinted a little faster with some pulsing pain in his stomach. Wincing, he ignored it to hide behind a nearby tree. He crouched down and twisted to turn toward the soldiers. The blonde man aimed his gun quickly, carefully honing in on a soldier in particular who was "closest" approaching (because even saying that is a stretch). He heard a few empty threats for him to stand down but he disregarded them since being detained was not exactly on his agenda.

Pulling the trigger a few times without hesitation when he was satisfied with his aim, the young man pushed himself off the tree and continued running. He didn't find it necessary to stick around to confirm his hit; he heard an anguished shout and a mish-mash of curses from the trio of soldiers which was good enough proof for him.

**_That's_**_ how it's done, geezers. _He scoffed, gaining more distance from the soldiers. He wasn't running quite as fast as he was before thanks a lot to the worsening stinging of his injury, but he kept moving with a sense of security that maybe he'd get away without too much incident after all.

That was, until another shot rang out and he felt a graze in his right side.

"Huh...guess their learning curve is steep?" the man huffed doing what he could to massage the ache down as he continued on to disappear out of the soldiers' sight.

* * *

"No, no, **NO**! Dangit! We lost 'em again!" snarled a soldier ranked at Private who had thrown his gun on the ground, removed his helm and punched a tree frustrated. "That's the third one this week! Who loses _three _bounties in **one** week?! Most don't even track that many in one **month**! We're so roasted we might as well join him."

"I don't know…." said the Grunt of the group with traces of doubt looking after the area the criminal had run past. "Did you notice he ran much slower than he did before? His wounds must really be bothering him now, making it ideal for capture. We could probably catch up to him easily-."

"-Are you nuts?!" retorted the Private to the slightly younger Grunt who flinched at the aggressive tone. "You saw how he took down the Captain with one well aimed bullet under pressure! Imagine what he'll do with time to prepare! He's probably chillin' in a hidden bush right now, whistling a chipper tune as he loads a special shell with each of our names on it!" the Private huffed, crossing his arms. "I knew we should've kept going."

"What, and leave the Captain behind? What would be worse: lose a criminal or lose a criminal and a leader? We had to make sure he's alright." the Grunt challenged despite the rankings. The Private became incensed.

"This army doesn't function on 'sentiment'! The higher-ups don't take failure lightly. Either we come back with...whoever he was…what, Promina? Prognosis or something?"

"_Prompto_, if I'm not mistaken." The Grunt corrected. "You remember him. Last name Argentium, wanted on charges of-"

"-Whatever!" the Private snapped losing his temper. "If we return to camp without his head on a silver plate it'll be ours on a golden platter!" he shouted flailing his arms in panic at the situation. The Grunt wiped a hand over his face in exasperation while the shot Captain leaned against a tree stump, opening up a bottle of potion.

"You're contradicting yourself, not that it even matters since technically the orders come from Captain. But what do you honestly expect us to do if you don't want to chase him but you don't want to go back? I really don't even see why you're bloating this into that big of a issue in the first place. Some people are more slippery than others. So we got three slick people. Surely they've seen it happen."

Noticing the Grunt's passive behavior, the Private took hold of his shoulders seemingly trying to shake sense into him. "Are you even getting what I'm giving?! Catching the drift at all?! It doesn't always work that way! How else do I need to put it?! Chase him or not it will not matter! Either we get shot or maybe court marshaled for failure? Pick your poison; we're **screwed **with a capital twist!" he gesticulated mimicking the motion of utilizing a screwdriver tool.

"Quit your yapping, both of ya!" the Captain finally piped in, scowling at the duo. "Sweet Etro are you overreacting, Private. If you're really that scared, I'll take full responsibility for the failure, pansy."

"But sir! We still have a chance to complete our orders. Shouldn't we go after him and do just that?" The puzzled Grunt asked earnestly as the Private roughly released him and walked away to lean against the tree he punched.

"Eh, let him go." growled the captain as he continued on his second potion, sipping small amounts at a time since it was so darn disgusting. Gradually but surely, his bloody shoulder was closing up under his bullet-breeched pauldron given the medical boost. "With the way he was leaking tomato soup? He'll probably croak before the moon hits its peak. Besides…." He trailed with a slight smirk, peering through his own lifted visor, "with all the creepy beings that roam in this part of the forest? Surely he's as good as dead by the next sunrise, right Private?"

The Grunt, perplexed by the last part of the Captain's statement looked to the Private for some hint as to what he was talking about. The Private, who was largely stand-offish since the Captain initially yelled at him, paled a bit at the mention of the creepy forest inhabitants.

"Creepy beings?" the Grunt inquired. "If I may ask, Captain, what do you mean by _that_?"

"What, nobody told you the legend about this post?" The Captain asked briskly making the Grunt stiffen in posture.

"All I got was a location and boss, sir. I know nothing more than that." The Grunt replied stiffly. The Captain, on the other hand, gave a small chuckle at the Grunt's formal conduct towards him.

"At ease, soldier. Talk about fresh outta boot camp….." He muttered with amusement, taking another draught of potion and grimacing at its flavor. "This post has been said to be haunted."

"How so?"

The Captain shifted his weight a bit and looked up at the significantly dark sky, trying to recall the gist of the story.

"...They say decades ago, a large, lost civilization fell as quickly as it rose around here and the populace haunts this forest to this day, to put it plainly. Nobody knows much about it, but those that are brave, curious or stupid tried to look for its ruins time and time again. No one has turned up with anything yet. Countless soldiers who patrol this area say they've heard children laughing and singing twisted nursery rhymes. Others claimed to glimpse figures lurking amongst the shrubbery. Just real weird stuff."

"We've even had soldiers get attacked during some of the sightings...or come up missing. And when that happens, we can **never** seem to find them." Said the Private, slightly breaking out into a sweat at the thought. The Grunt was curious about the man's paranoia.

"Have...either of _you_ seen anything?"

The Captain smirked as he and the Grunt watched the Private's terrified response.

"W-what?! What kind of question is that?! '_Have you seen anything_!' Don't ask about something so absurd!" he demanded, ignoring him while leaning against the tree. The Captain scoffed at his colleague's resistance and spoke up instead.

"That translates to 'Yes. Yes I have.'" He began, addressing the Grunt while simultaneously mocking the Private. "Apparently, he was patrolling the camp one day and he heard a kid singing. Private Pansy over there went to check it out and found a little girl wandering around in the forest alone...or so it seemed. He tried to talk to the kid but she ran off into the wilderness, probably scared from seeing a soldier. He chased her a short distance but lost sight of her when she started weaving through bushes to escape him. Before he realized how far he had run, something shrieked behind him and knocked him out. Four hours later, he wakes up dazed to a squad of puzzled grunts with shattered dignity from being caught vulnerably unconscious." The Captain explained with a laugh. He then glanced over at the Private, who still ignored him. "Does that about sum it up, Maggot?"

All the two got in response was a snort as he pushed away from the tree defiantly.

"You can sneer all you want,_ sir_. If they faced me head on, I could've taken them."

"Keep telling yourself that, cat-man. But that's digressing from my point." The Captain shrugged off before taking his final swig of his potion, allowing more of his wound to heal. He tossed the bottle away, slid down his visor and rose to his feet signaling the accompanying soldiers to stand at attention. The Private placed his helm on with reluctance then grabbed his gun. Standing with the Grunt, they saluted the Captain awaiting his next orders. "The past is the past, boys. We didn't nab that Prompto guy, but I honestly don't think he'll be a problem to us anymore. Keeping that in mind, we **will** return to the base standing tall and with dignity. We aren't going to _cover_ _up_ the details; we'll simply tell them everything that transpired here and let the chips fall where they may. Got it?"

The Private was about to pipe up his concerns again but one death-glare from the Captain shut his mouth as soon as it opened. The two subordinates before the Captain nodded in agreement; all spinning on their heels to return to whence they came as darkness finally set on the forest.

* * *

Nighttime had set in fully as an hour had passed since the escapee (presumably Prompto) was abandoned by the soldiers, left for dead to stumble about till he bled to his grave.

The young blonde had been limping a short distance after losing sight of them when he started coming across large dilapidated structures. Each one was a remnant of excavation, so he found; from heavy duty carts to old wagons and stables, they were sporadically scattered amongst the rocks, foliage and dirt in the seemingly endless forest. To the average traveler these structures and objects would be written off as nothing more than eye-sore junk and that's all it was at first. But the more he continued to find, for Prompto it turned out instead to be a sight for sore eyes.

He realized it was finally a sign of life! Of civilization! He figured that if he kept searching for more of these structures they would surely lead to at least a village where he might be able to get some help for his injuries. He saw the rotting skeletons of equipment long expended as a string of goals to be completed more than anything else.

Like hopping from one checkpoint to the next it gave him a reason to keep going. Essentially they were shimmers of hope that he'd be one step closer to whoever it might be in his next destination that could save his life.

But endurance did not equate to determination. On occasion, Prompto would have to take a break at the equipment to rest up briefly. Between the constant bleeding, the muscle fatigue and his receding energy levels it was all he could do to keep himself from passing out completely.

His best efforts while excruciating did not go unrewarded though. Prompto's very hopeful hunch and persistent pursuit indeed led him to a village within the vast forest, for he leaned huffing against a post within the open gate of a nameless (the sign is illegibly withered) town. This village was very small though; it had a layout of a tiny colonial township with sets of civic buildings at the heart and residences at the edges. A single wide main road was well cobbled for easy access to the slowly decaying buildings; the only thing interrupting the small sea of bricks was a central well sitting centered amongst it all. From the outskirts it was all very well hidden amongst the forest foliage probably courtesy of its neglected state. The buildings were big enough to support a population of a hundred citizens yet they were squat so most trees and overgrown vegetation could effortlessly dwarf it. The city camouflaged with nature so well if it was not for the moonlight he was sure he'd never have found it. Be that as it may, what was important was that he _did_ and it was time to find someone capable of healing him.

_"_Talk about a detour."Prompto wheezed wearily to himself as his drowsy eyes fell upon the buildings unsatisfied with the new development. He realized it was unlikely that anyone would frequent this decomposing location but checking was better than nothing.

He took a few careful steps onto the cobbled road. Scuffling with difficulty down the street and slightly slumped, he searched the buildings for any sign of life at all.

"Hello?" he called out to nothing in particular. "Anyone here?"

With a loud grunt from an agonizing pang he dropped to his knees unable to support himself. Prompto winced as another wave of throbbing hit him making him clutch his abdomen unthinkingly. Peeling part of his dark leather vest out of the way to glance down towards his stomach Prompto frowned.

The pain surges were getting much worse and the blood kept gushing. He had nothing on him at all that he could put on it to slow it down, let alone an item to at least hold him over. While the marksman was morbidly curious as to how bad his injuries were, Prompto couldn't seem to bring himself to check what was really going on with the wounds under his muddled (used to be white) shirt. He couldn't tell if he was lacking true interest or if he was downright scared of what he might see. But whatever it was he settled to leave it alone. The odds were against him already; he didn't want to make it worse by reminding himself of his own mortality.

Becoming lightheaded, Prompto deciphered it as a warning to continue moving since staying idle at this point would prove detrimental. Prompto struggled to his feet with his trusty gun and continued on his way, keeping an eye out for anything at all indicating a human presence. He called out desperately a few more times to get the attention of anyone who might hear him but was heard nothing but the response of quiet nature.

Strained strides slowed into limp footsteps, and from footsteps reduced to clumsy shuffling as pain persisted and he began to sweat. It didn't take much time from there for him to lose his grip completely on his gun and drop back onto the ground. Aggravation swelled in his gut as he found himself losing more control of his weakening limbs but could do nothing after losing so much blood. He tried with every fiber of his being to call out one last time but the aches in his stomach and the spinning feeling in his head prevented otherwise.

Lethargy became Prompto's newest and toughest adversary in his fight to stay alive. To the young blonde, it was ironic that the rest he so badly needed would become his worst nightmare under his awful circumstances. He urged and urged for his eyes to stay open but he knew well that it was ultimately a losing battle. The blurring vision hit him hard first, and he was finally done in with unconsciousness once the slumber finally settled.


	2. Chapter 1: Discovery

Vitalus

Chapter 1: Discovery

A small, round head poked through a creaking door with its big guilty brown eyes peering around at the empty night time street.

They belonged to a child who was well into the years of her classification but not enough to emerge into her teenage phase just yet. The girl, while adventurous, displayed some degree of regret over her latest excursion once she quickly set foot on the shanty shack's elaborately crafted porch and hopped off of its stoop onto the dry cobbled street. A cloud of dust formed when her shoes clumsily thudded with the road causing her to cough a little, waving off the rest away from her face. It didn't take long for it to dissipate so she took her rare opportunity to brush off her clothes in the crisp summer air the best she could. Her efforts were in vain, however, for she was so coated in the drifting grime that no patting now or washing of her clothes later could wring out the years of accumulated miscellaneous mystery crud.

This pale girl was dressed in a simple dingy A-line mint coat and an off-white dress layered under it. Her light brown hair was in a sloppy loose bun that was so messy it bluntly stated to the world she couldn't have been bothered to deal with it since she apparently had much better things to do. Generally she didn't differ much from the typical tyke aside from her slightly outdated outfit; but any person from a remotely developed walk of life would be inclined to ponder why her caretakers allowed her to run amuck in such an uncouth manner.

This would be assuming they could get past the fact that she held near and dear a rather….hazardous contraption, to say the least.

In the child's arms she gripped a large water gun of sorts which, sure, is harmless enough when used for just that purpose. But this particular water gun was modified in such a way that it had three peculiar jars fashioned into an end where the water could collect. Each one was stained a different color: a dull green, a muted blue and a dim gold. All three of these soft hues glowed ominously in their caked glass prisons while thin puddles of substance sloshed around occasionally inside with her movements. The water gun itself was held backwards to its original design so that its suction mechanism would be exposed. But instead of seeing just that, it was covered by an incredibly large attached syringe that would scare even the bravest of vaccination patients.

The child, hugging this object a little more tightly, walked cautiously on towards the ruins of civic buildings with nothing but a strip of canopy-less moonlit sky to guide her. She reached the midpoint of the town marked by the well and glanced around with a sense of innocent awe where others would express moderate apprehension.

She never knew in her short span of life thus far about the decaying historic landmark. The buildings were small but grand in design; and if you could muscle your way into a few, there were untold troves of treasures to be found amongst the unsalvageable junk. The girl found this aspect to be particularly worth any consequences that lay in wait for sneaking out to see it all especially when she observed a very ornate vase and even some broken jewelry in the house she had recently emerged from. The child dared not take anything with her though. She realized that going back to whence she came, she'd already have enough trouble keeping her mouth shut about everything she had seen. Put that with her forgetful nature, (Etro forbid she drop a priceless ring where someone would find it) she just couldn't risk arguing with physical evidence. So of that she wouldn't have a relic to show for her fieldtrip. But even so, just seeing the place was worth more than all the rings or vases the town may have had squirreled away.

The girl frowned a little almost discontented when she saw the dark sky but curious thoughts passed her mind every time her gaze was drawn to the bright full moon. Minutes passed on her musings and the girl had to shake her head a bit to break her temporary trance the moon put her in and made a note to herself that she shouldn't linger too long as not to raise concern of her absence where she resided.

Really, she found it oh so very hard to tear herself away from the wondrous place. Ideally she would scour the treasure of every establishment but the chore of getting in did not even remotely make it a feasible option, not to mention the time it'd take to search it all. Thus she settled for sightseeing down the street. At least she could mentally make a log of sites to explore if, nay, _when _she came back again.

Making her way slowly past the civic buildings her eye still trailed after it longingly. But when she looked forward toward the other half of town's residences and at the gate, a heap a few feet away from it caught her eye. Thanks to the moonlight, her eyes adjusted and could focus enough to recognize what it was.

She stiffened at the sight when she realized it was yet another person lying on the ground in some kind of puddle, likely "asleep" from her past understanding. Immediately, her mind was torn between split initial reactions.

_'Items!' _was the only thing her subconscious shrieked.

_'Don't do it-!' _urged the deeper reluctance that was only recently instilled in her.

Regardless of these two battling ways of thinking, the girl found herself walking toward the stranger to at least get a better look at them. She walked up a few inches and knelt next to the body. She found a man lying on his stomach with the side of his face resting on the ground. His messy hair, however, hid much of his face so she couldn't get much from his profile as was.

She stared down at him tense not from fearing him but from trying to make up her mind about her next course of action as she clutched her water gun even tighter than she already did.

'_Come on! Those items aren't going to gather themselves!'_

_'But mother said not to! Not unless it's an emergency!"_

_'Preparation! It's preparation! Just one more harvest wouldn't hurt.'_

_'Walk away! Harvesting is wrong! Mother told you it's wrong!'_

_'How could something you were taught your whole life be wrong? Take the items.'_

Her thoughts went on and off like this for five long minutes. She knew deep in her heart she didn't want to take any items from whoever this man was but her fingers instinctively fumbled with her water gun. Before she knew it, she had the point of her needle aiming straight for the guy's neck since the rest of him was covered by the very robust materials of his clothing. It was nearly there when she heard a voice address her.

"Squirt? What, what, **_what_** are doing?" inquired an irritated voice from behind the girl causing her jump with a squeak subsequently halting her actions and trains of girl whirled around in shock at this new but familiar presence.

There stood a peer maybe four years older than the girl amd seemed incredibly tall for her age in comparison. Her hair too was on the messy side as well and pulled into a low bun that was so hastily fashioned that it was a wonder if she could eventually get the band she used to bunch it together out again. She too wore a coat but it was a shade of dark grey and much more slim than flared, falling half way down the thigh at its hem. The white dress she wore under could hardly be seen but a layer of thin cloth that extended from it peaked from beneath it followed the same slim trend coming just below the knee at _its_ own hem.

"Don't scare me like that!" she huffed, setting her tool down relieved on her lap.

"Sorry, Squirt." The older youth responded, cocking her head and crossing her arms. "But you still didn't tell me what you're doing up here." she scorned walking towards the child. "What were you thinking coming up here? If mother found out about this juicy piece of blackmail, you'll get in big, big trouble missy. Heck, _I'll _get in trouble too just for knowing you came up here alone, and possibly more for coming up myself! Don't you ever learn from my mistakes? Do you even realize how strict she really -!" she stopped immediately once she stood next to the girl. "-is….?"

The adolescent glanced down and fell silent when she saw just what the girl knelt next to.

"Who's this?" the girl asked pointing down at the blonde man lying on the ground obliviously next to the two girls. All the child could do was shrug and look away a bit embarrassed.

"I dunno." She responded, looking down at her water gun, which did not go unnoticed by the teen. "I just found him lying here and came over to get a closer look." The teen widened her eyes when a thought occurred to her from seeing the man and the distressed expression of the girl.

"You didn't...harvest him, did you?" she asked with some hesitation not wanting the question to be confirmed that she did.

"Huh?" the girl asked distracted before it sank in what was inquired. "Oh, no. I didn't. But I admit, I almost did." She added, tracing her finger on the tool. The child was met with a gentle sigh and the teen's face had relaxed briefly into an expression of understanding that the girl did not quite get an opportunity to take in. They didn't always get along but she saw where the child was coming since she had experienced the same difficulties once upon a time. They both had a long, hard time breaking the habit they were raised with and that was largely why they had to be so open and persistent with each other.

Even if it meant admonishment on more than five occasions.

A hoot from a lone owl helped turn their focus from the fading possibility that never came to pass to the object that narrowly initiated it. The two pairs of eyes shortly returned the bleeding unconscious man before them and they looked to each other wondering what to do next.

The teen kneeled down to the girl's level in a curious manner, mainly due to how different he appeared. The young girl only sat by quietly as the teen gently turned the blond man over carefully so that he was now lying on his back and she could more clearly see how he ended up as he was.

For a moment, the teen got uncharacteristically distracted by the young man she had just turned over. Both girls could now got a full view of his face and frankly if they were trying to hide their engrossed expressions, it failed miserably. He was a slightly closer to their age bracket than they initially expected but they could still tell that he was some years their senior. Only when the teen remembered what their mother told them about being professional did the teen put aside her initial thoughts and notice the sweat that had formed on his face. Seeing the stain on his white shirt above the bullet wounds the adolescent put two and two together as a thought occurred to her. She put two fingers to his jugular and her eyes widened with surprise when she confirmed her hunch.

"W-what's wrong?" the girl asked when she saw the adolescent's shocked face grow paler than she already was.

"He's still alive! Barely so, but still there!" the teen blurted, turning back to the girl. Then she became exasperated when she thought back to how the girl found him. "Wait a sec…" she began to panic, "You almost harvested someone who was still **alive**?! Dear Etro did you almost blunder, kid!"

Thinking quickly, the teen took the water gun from the girl and held it so the needle faced upward. She unscrewed the green jar and set the rest of the tool down.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know!" the girl defended just as flustered standing back out of the teen's way as she propped the man up a little with one arm. She carefully took it and poured the last traces of its contents into his mouth. The substance seemed to help a little, for when she checked the initially weak pulse again it was a slightly stronger than before. However it was only enough to hold him over since his injuries needed desperate work.

"That's why mother makes us stop the habit! Or if you do she urges us to at least check!" the teen face-palmed.

"Fine, okay, I'll check! But since he's okay, what do we do now?!" The girl diverted, when she looked back at the blond sharpshooter who remained motionless. "We can't just leave him here!"

"I realize!" the teen snapped, looking up at the sky to clear her head. The child remained silent allowing the elder of the two to get her thoughts together and figure out what to do next. "But there's nothing else we can do for him here. We don't have any more potions and that's the only thing that might help him at this point."

"What about my ether? Or even the phoenix down? One of them has to work!" the girl insisted, moving to unscrew the gold jar but was stopped by the teen.

"It doesn't work that way. It won't do anything for him that will help his wounds. You'll just waste the goods." The teen's eyes finally fell on the gun that was near the man. "Is that his?"

"I think so-?" The girl responded.

The teen grabbed up the firearm swiftly and emptied it of its rounds as to avoid incident in what she was about to attempt. The girl was perplexed by this action.

"Wait, what are you doing? I thought you said we couldn't do anything!" girl inquired with confusion.

Grasping the gun tightly in one hand, the adolescent hoisted the young man up, hooking his arm around her neck, grasping the wrist with the free one.

"I said we couldn't help him _here_." She corrected. "And remember, even if we did have the potions his wounds might need work that an item can't fix. I know a little first aid, but I'm no miracle worker." She then flashed the child a knowing, reassuring smile. "We're out of options, but mother would know what to do, now wouldn't she?"

* * *

**Author's Note**

Another chapter done and posted. This was quite a pain to write too, but easier than the first. And to think it was supposed to be part of the Prologue? O.o

Still, I hope you enjoyed it. Things should pick up easier from here.

Reviews are always welcome. Do you like it or hate it? Is the description sufficient or am I rambling? xD Feel free to let me know!


	3. Chapter 2: Mother

**Author's Note**

I'll just state that this chapter has been done for a while (as I've really put a lot of thought into this story and thus have been planning it for a spell) and was meant to be posted in conjunction with the previous one. This is at least so that it's a better cliff-hanger between now and whenever I post again. It's short so might as well post it now than later.

I'll just disclaim Final Fantasy Versus 13 and anything glaringly nodding to Bioshock one more time but claim my original characters, settings and plot, just so I don't forget to.

Read and review, it's always appreciated. ^^

* * *

Vitalus

Chapter 2: Mother

All Prompto saw was a black void.

He could barely pull his thoughts together. He couldn't move; he couldn't even feel anything. He was numb on so many levels.

_Am I dead? _Prompto wondered to himself groggily. Especially when he began to hear rather distant voices that sounded vaguely like a woman.

And was it also…kids?

"Mommy? Is he going to….wake up?" asked what sounded like a young little girl.

"What kind of thing is that to ask Mother while she's working?" scorned an older girl to the child.

_Mother? _Prompto pondered. _Did I end up in someone's house? Who _are_ these people?_

"I'm just worried!" The little girl retorted angrily. He started to make out as he heard much more clearly.

"Sure. Says the one that almost-!"

"Girls!" a third much older voice cut in. "I simply cannot concentrate with your bickering."

"Sorry Mommy….." The little girl apologized sheepishly.

There was a half baked apology on the older girl's part but she mainly shrugged it off. After a moment of silence, he heard the older girl get excited about something.

With a gasp, she exclaimed "Mother! Look! His hand twitched!"

_Did it? _ The sharpshooter challenged silently with a frown. But then, he couldn't feel anything anyway so what would he know?

"Are you sure?" Asked the younger voice indignantly for Prompto. "I didn't see it."

"That's because you rarely pay attention." The girl snapped back, sizing the little girl up. "Much less 'observe'. That's why I have to look out for you all the blooming time."

"I can take care of myself!"

"You can't even hold your own against me."

"I could so!

"You're welcome to try."

"Girls!" The woman finally intervened with a groan. "Out with your selves if you can't stop this squabbling! I need to concentrate!" he didn't hear much else than that, but something else he couldn't see must have transpired because eventually he heard the woman shoo the kids out. The sounds of the door clicking confirmed it.

Some time that seemed like ages elapsed silently till he abruptly heard the lady address him.

"Hello?" She asked him in hopes of a response.

"Young man? Can you hear me?"

Prompto wanted to respond, with a 'hey, what's going on' or 'who the heck are you' but he still didn't have any strength to do anything. All he could do was keep breathing, and he guessed that was enough for her when he heard her take note of it.

"Well, at least you can still inhale on your own. That's something." She mumbled to herself. "Don't worry kiddo. I'm going to fix you up good as new after that wallop you took."

Prompto inwardly frowned at the statement.

_Wallop I took? Pft! They just got me on a bad day_. He scoffed in his mind. The blonde heard something clinking together. Maybe glass? Who knows.

"Hold on just a sec-!" she said. After a silence, he began to get feeling back into his limbs.

_Sheesh….. _Prompto inwardly complained. _You'd think she'd consider turning up a thermostat or two….._

The voice spoke to him again.

"Alright. Young lad? If you can hear me, try moving your arms." He tried, but he was met with resistance from his unconscious state. All he ended up doing was nudge his limbs.

"Good." She said. "Now try your legs." He tried to move his legs, but again, it came out as nothing more than a twitch at best. Even so, the lady still seemed very pleased with his feeble responses.

"You're doing fine lad. I'm almost done. I've now just got to administer you this…!" she trailed.

_This? What is __**this**__? _ He mentally inquired to her. Suddenly, he felt a refreshing sensation wash over him. He became much more revitalized and could feel his body regain the strength he had always known it to have. Frankly, he hadn't felt this great in months! Must have been a Phoenix down maybe?

"That should do it." said the woman with a weary sigh. "Now, young lad….." She instructed gently, "Open your eyes."


	4. Chapter 3: Gail

**Author's Note: **Applause to all the authors on this site. Writing stories (especially one with multiple chapters) is kinda hard, I've noticed. XD

Also, thanks for the reviews, especially Katchihe. They are all very helpful to understand the fresh reception of the writing after my sore eyes have read it over for mistakes countless times (and not to mention are fun to read anyway xD). So again, thank you very much for the kind words and I hope it continues to please you all.

In response to altair703's review, I think I can say without spoiling anything that Noctis will show up later in the plot, but how long it'll take to reach that, I'm not too sure. I just wanted to wait to get to that point before adding it in the description, but he'll show up. ^^

For the story, sorry, I had to slam ya with more descriptions of things. There'll probably be 1-2 more chapters (pending) describing things before the plot truly progresses, but I promise it will!

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Vitalus

Chapter 3: Gail

Prompto opened his eyes slowly but squinted when he was met with a bright light. He saw an arm push the light out of his face but he still brought a hand up that'd rub it to help his sight readjust to the room.

"You should be fine now, but no roughhousing for a while, alright?" The woman said. Sitting up and allowing the cloth that had been covering him to slide off, Prompto looked around to the see source of the adult voice he had been hearing. He found himself in a room not especially spacious but big enough to serve its obvious purpose as a makeshift operating room. There were miscellaneous dated medical tools and equipment laid out on counters where it wasn't so much clutter as it was simply a lot of useful things to pack into such a limited space. Large book cases, cabinets and a few sinks lined a few of the walls and even given the bright operation light, the room was very dimly lit. He could spot a few scrap neon lights here and there to help out with this problem but it did little to truly illuminate the room.

Eventually, Prompto's eyes fell on the woman who addressed him.

He could tell by her voice that the she was older but he couldn't tell much else about her than that. She wore a nurse outfit, a stained, splattered once-upon-a-time-white shirtdress that reached down to the middle of her shins. A dull white vintage hat and a surgical mask that covered her face also accompanied it, so in other words he didn't even know what the lady looked like aside from the outfit.

She said nothing else as she leaned casually against the table behind her almost as if she was waiting for him to take his turn to say something. Prompto suddenly became rather uncomfortable under the cold unwavering gaze of her nearly clear eyes and he grasped for anything at all he could say. He rubbed the back of his head finally breaking her eye contact.

"Er...thanks for healing me, Doc?" he said at last but more like a question since she didn't say anything informative yet.

"...Gail." She stated flatly, startling Prompto. "Dr. Gail Bellamy." She cocked her head like she was observing some rare specimen when she asked, "How are you feeling, Lad? I see my girls found you somewhere in the city and dragged your carcass here for healing. I applaud that you beat the odds. It either means you're extremely resilient or incredibly stubborn."

With that, Gail fell silent again scrutinizing his reaction with what was probably a blank expression. Whatever was occurring in her head, she seemed to possess no concept of the word "awkward" in how she would allow such long squirming pauses. Prompto couldn't help but glower at the poor excuse of a greeting especially when it was followed up by her intense silence. And to be honest, the harsh silence spoke a _lot_ louder than her biting tone.

This lady wasn't exactly aiming to impress, was she?

"Well, Dr. _Bellamy,_" Prompto a replied with a hint of sarcasm, "I'm Prompto. I'm feeling just fine, thank you. Also, I'm in a hurry. So if you don't mind, I'm going to find my gun and high tail it outta here." With that, he slid off the table and onto the floor since he was slightly on the taller side anyway. He was stopped with a halting hand and his brown eyes beheld piercing grey ones yet again.

"Hold it right there. Even if I did let you go that easily, I'm not allowing _my _girls see you dressed like **that**." She demanded, crossing her arms. "Or lack thereof for that matter..."

She gestured for him to wait then walked over to table on the other side of the room. Prompto raised a questioning eyebrow and looked down. Just as soon as he did, he snapped his gaze up and shut his eyes letting out a groan in absolute frustration realizing he only had his pants and shoes on in addition to missing his weapon. Upon closer inspection, he even noticed he now sported a fresh set of well sewn stitches where his wounds were earlier that night.

Prompto turned to glare at her again only to be met with a flash of brown and white to the face when Gail tossed his clothes to him.

"And by the way, yes that is a new shirt. Your old one was reduced to nothing more than bloody gauze. The girls thought you'd need a new one and fashioned that based off the other. Once you're fully dressed,_ then_ you can at least walk around."

Without waiting for a response, she turned away from Prompto and headed for a hidden office inside the medical lab. It was largely for the sake of giving him privacy as he got dressed, even it just being a shirt and vest to put on.

Ignoring her abrupt personality and behavior, he asked "What do you mean by 'your girls'? Are you raising a family or something?" he called out to the other room as he shrugged on his shirt with relative ease. Whoever the kids were, they did a pretty good job with the fitting for using spare resources.

"You could say that..." She responded thoughtfully. "But think of it more as if I'm adopting them, I suppose. There sadly aren't many to be found these days but it's always worth the effort to rescue them."

With every passing sentence, Prompto became even more puzzled by Gail than he did a few seconds before. The vague answers to his questions only translated into more inquiries.

"Rescue? Did something _happen_?" Prompto asked placing his vest on and ruffling up his hair a little out of sheer impulse.

"Nothing particularly recent. It's regrettable they have such a hard time surviving under these tough conditions but what can one do but the best they can?" she admitted. "Seems a little strange to be asked a question like that though."

"How so?"

"No cautious person dares to venture anywhere without knowing anything about their destination, especially if they end up here. Of that, hope no one _sent_ you. Talk about getting hung up and left to dry." She said accusingly making the gunner twitch an eye.

"Excuse _me_ for asking." he glowered, before attacking the heavier statement. Prompto didn't know who she this Gail thought she was but he didn't appreciate baseless accusations, and if she really thought he had some hidden agenda he was going to set that straight immediately. "I also hate to disappoint, but I'm not nearly as 'shady' as you'd like to think. I honestly got a little lost and I never had any intention to visit this shoddy town. Maybe if you thought to ask how I ended up injured before assuming anything, you'd realize I was actually chased and shot at by soldiers." He snapped at her. "If not for staring death in the lookers, I'd have kept going."

"Then I don't suppose you'd mind telling me where you were _really_ going then? If you're so transparent, that is." she challenged.

"I realized you healed me and all, but I'm not too trusting of strangers myself." Prompto said as he crossed his arms.

"Fair enough..." She replied still gripped in doubt before they both fell into silence. Breaking it, she asked the young blonde, "Are you decent?"

"As decent as you." He replied curtly. More impatiently, he asked, "Where's my gun?"

He watched as Gail stepped back into the room. Prompto saw that she hadn't simply just been waiting in her office. Apparently she was switching out of her uniform herself, now dressed more casually, if such a word could be used to describe Gail.

Instead of the dingy nurse apparel she donned earlier, Gail was now wearing a much neater peach shirtdress of sorts and a long, heavy cream jacket over it. Both articles of clothing were considerably faded and rather dusty with dirt despite her efforts to keep it as presentable as possible. Her shoes were well worn brown combat boots that appeared to retain a shocking amount of mileage in them, and like her apparel, she did what she could to keep them tidy. (Might be the reason why they've lasted this long.)

Her hair was even stranger than her apparel. It was an ashy brown at shoulder length and fashioned where the front locks had been pulled and clipped to the back so the remaining hair was kept out of the way. The ends were tightly curled and overall had a surprising sheen to it.

Her face showed her age as if she had been under a lot of stress her whole life, and Prompto guessed that she was probably in her mid forties. He saw that she was incredibly pale as if she had stayed indoors for years refusing to step into the sunshine. This coupled with her sharp gray eyes gave her a very ghostly appearance that could be very hard to stare at if you thought about it too much. While Gail did not leave a very good impression on him initially, Prompto did admit to himself that she was somewhat pretty in her own right and for her age. She had a unique style visually that hadn't been embraced by the rest of the world for decades. If her color scheme was any more de-saturated, she'd be like a living photograph taken in yesteryears unknown to him.

He stared at her in inquisitive wonder at these observations only brought back to the present, so to speak, when she made a coughing sound to get his attention. "I take it this is yours?" she asked, handing over his gun which he eagerly accepted. He felt kind of incomplete without it.

"Thanks again." Prompto responded politely...enough. Pulling it up to rest on his shoulder he made a gesture to imitate looking at a watch. "Ah, look at that time, Madame Bellamy. As much as I'd _love_ to linger in your very...**humble** abode," he jabbed earning a scoff from Gail, "I need to get going. Places to go, hopefully no other people to see. You get the gist."

"Are you sure you want to be so hasty? From here I doubt you'll get far." She stated bluntly, this time stern with no particular intention to be harsh. "You were quite a mess when you got here, you know. If you attempt to navigate these streets alone again you'll only get yourself killed. Three hours of work lying in a ditch somewhere? That'd be hotsy-totsy." she grumbled.

The last bit of wording made Prompto question if he suffered head trauma in addition to getting shot. He looked at Gail in vexed disbelief not sure of how to respond. He opened his mouth a few times to address it but opted to disregard the lingo quietly when he brought up a hand and instead head for the door.

"Look," Prompto began once he approached it, "I appreciate your _scathing_ concern, but I think I can take care of myself. It's just _one_ giant, grimy street, right? If I can't get out of _that_ alive, I don't even deserve to live." This merited a noticeable reaction from Gail.

"One street?" Gail asked calmly but very much astounded by his supposed lack of knowledge for his surroundings. Prompto largely shrugged off her subtle reaction but noticed it was suddenly void of the bite it had earlier like she was genuinely shocked. "Surely you must be joking, lad?"

"I could say the same to you." He retorted twisting the handle and walking out the door and into her living space. Gail stood there confused for a moment before she hurried her stride after Prompto curious about this very incorrect idea of a 'single street'.

Both entered a large living room immediately outside of the operating room that still felt very closed in, maybe because most of the walls and the floor was concrete. The room had the usual couch, loveseat, coffee as well as end table and so forth surprisingly void of clutter. Bookshelves, memorabilia and documents helped to fill up wall space and the lighting was an improvement compared to the lab. Momentarily taking in some of the room's contents, the notable absence of windows instilled a growing claustrophobia in Prompto that he never knew he was capable of.

Just another reason for him to move along as soon as possible.

"Wait a minute, Prompto was it?" Gail called out catching up and blocking his path to the door.

How annoying that she pretty much matched his height else he could easily sidestep her. The young man glared knives as he tapped his gun against his shoulder impatiently.

"What did you mean by 'one giant street'? You know there are numerous large streets you could be referring to. And plenty of alleys to get lost in for that matter. What honestly makes you say there's just one? If you were chased through them, you should know much better than that."

"'Cause I saw it with my own eyes. And frankly, I think you're crazy." Prompto responded curtly. The woman sighed in frustration unfazed by his opinion.

"Okay, that's fine." Gail says calmly trying a different approach to their would-be circular miscommunication. "You don't believe me? I'll humor you. Pray tell, Prompto, what do _you _recall of your surroundings before you passed out? Make me understand _your_ perspective, because obviously we are in two separate books."

Prompto let out a groan at the woman's persistence thinking it highly unnecessary considering their unusual argument that he knew he was right.

"Simple as I said in the other room. I was running through a forest at dusk and I stumbled across this village built along a single street. After that, I passed out from my injuries and woke up in here." he repeated.

The added mention of 'dusk' piqued Gail's interest as she compared his account mentally with another take on the same situation. This distracted her from Prompto's departure, even when he announced to the surgeon "For the thousandth time, thank you and good night, Ms. Bellamy. It's been _real_ fun but I'm outta here." With that he stepped around her and hastened out the door and away from her.

It didn't take Gail too long to connect the dots once the door slammed shut.

_Wait, he saw a forest and a small village at __**dusk**__? That can't be right. To witness dusk, you'd have to see the sun! And to see the sun, you'd have to go to..._

Gail's face contorted in doubt.

_...No. The girls... they said they found him in the streets half dead. Neither have a reason to lie to me, right? Why are the stories so different?_

The more she thought about it, she realized how vague the children's explanation to her was which left a lot of room for Gail to assume. Ironically, the clarity of truth hit her like a bat at their very ambiguous wording. She inwardly applauded the children's clever phrasing but was highly upset at their blatant disobedience.

_'Found him in the streets, huh?' I'll have an interesting talk with them about that later. _She told herself.

Gail noticed looking up that Prompto was long gone to her chagrin. She figured since it truly may not have been his fault to end up in her house that she might as well at least let him know what he was going up against. In hindsight, she admitted she could have utilized a different method of uncovering Prompto's true intentions, but the kids' failure to specify where precisely they found him did not allow much room for trust. Had she have known otherwise, she would have handled him accordingly but there was no way to change what had transpired and all she could do was move foward.

The young man obviously had no idea what he was dragged into as a result and she began to wonder how far the peturbed blonde could have gone in a matter of minutes. She then began to wonder if he had already gotten hopelessly lost but a screech from outside and familiar shouts oddly settled her nerves.

Preparing herself to step out, she smoothed her already neat hair, adjusted her coat and patted her dress. Straightening her posture, she went out into the street to fetch Prompto and drag the klutz back to safety.

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**Character Achivement Unlcocked**

Sooo... I see you've met Gail. xD

As the 'reward' for it, her design can be observed in the icon for this story. Hopefully it matches her description well enough.

Let me know what you think in a review if you'd like.

Bleh. Personally I didn't like this chapter much, a lot of it due to having to portray a vague miscommunication without putting it too plainly. Been fumbling with it for days. :P Probably failed it miserably but next two chapters will clear it all up and I'll post them together next time I update. Comments, critiques, questions, reasonable complaints, observations. Feel free to drop them off.


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